


Frappuccino

by Lavosse



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex texts like an old person, Brief cameos by the Arnolds and their complicated lives, Coffeeshop AU, F/F, F/M, Family, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Multi, mentions of polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6794107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavosse/pseuds/Lavosse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and his sister talk polyamory and complicated pasts; Alexander is too similar to John for either of their goods; Lafayette has no filter.<br/>Somebody asked for a sequel to Chestnut-Praline Latte is Back! so...here are some headcanons for that 'verse, masquerading as actual writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frappuccino

“I cannot believe you said that.”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, anything other than ‘I like turtles’.”

“Don’t challenge someone else’s plan of action unless you have multiple better alternatives,” John reprimanded, quoting Lafayette’s favorite professor. They’d had this conversation at least once every day since John’s surprise date.

“Your phone is ringing,” Laf interjected, effectively changing the subject.

With some difficulty, John dug his phone out of his pocket as Laf brushed past him to take care of manning the register.

“Hey, it’s Jack.” He leaned against the tiled wall of the stockroom, letting one foot rest on the wall.

“Jack!”

He knew the voice immediately, half by the sound and half by the rush of fondness it drew from him. “Mary! How are you? How’s South Carolina treating you?”

“I’m good. School is kicking my ass.”

“Language, young lady,” John said, in a flawless impersonation of their father.

“Fuck off, Jack,” Mary retorted, laughing. “What’re you up to?”

“…You’re not reporting back to Dad, are you?”

“Of course not. You never call, I thought I’d try to catch you on lunch break.”

“I actually work through lunch now,” John said apologetically. “The demand for coffee never ends.”

“That is downright tyrannical.”

“It’s not too bad. I’ve met some great people.”

“Mm.” He knew she was nodding. If he closed his eyes, he was there in the heavy heat of South Carolina with her. As much as he hated the place, he missed it. He supposed that was the curse of family.

“How’s Martha?” He thought his voice echoed oddly on the name, but that could have been his imagination. It had a tendency to lend power to names that, by all rights, should have had none.

“…Better,” Mary replied, seemingly hesitant. “She decided on a major. She seems…more purposeful.”

John breathed relief through the residual nausea of discussing Martha. “Good. Don’t tell her I asked.”

“I’m not stupid.”

Silence lingered on the line, and John told himself he was waiting for Mary to speak again, though he knew that she was giving him an opportunity to collect himself.

“On the topic of significant others, how’s Alex?”

“Busy. With law school.” He paused. “And Eliza.”

“Who’s Eliza? Jack, did you let some girl steal your boyfriend again?”

Jack snorted. “I once let a girl steal my fake girlfriend. I’ve never lost a boy to a girl.”

“Whatever. The question stands.”

“…Well, I let a girl steal me _and_ my boyfriend, if you’re gonna look at it that way.”

It took Mary a moment to respond. Jack could practically hear her squinting in concentration as information reorganized itself in her head. “You…you’re dating…two people?”

“Yep. It’s weird. I kinda like it.”

“You like her, too?” Mary asked in confusion.

“Eliza’s great. She makes killer brownies. She isn’t jealous, and she’s great at dealing with Alex’s insanity.”

“And here I am, with…only one sort-of girlfriend.”

The number of things she could have said after that space filled John’s head for a moment, but he knew she hadn’t even considered any of them, so he closed that door and ignored the anxiety as best he could.

“Just you wait, kiddo,” he said, doing his best to laugh. “Keep yourself safe.”

“You too. Love you.”

“Yup. Tell Mom I love her.”

John clicked the phone off and tucked it away.

After the phone call, he just stood and breathed for a moment, head falling back against the wall. Stress nausea of talking about the past mingled in his stomach with the calming fondness of talking to his sister; he let one drift away, and anchored the other firmly within himself.

He pushed through the kitchen doors and relieved Lafayette at their post, clipping on his nametag as a customer walked in; she seemed surprised by the doorbell that rang as she entered. John almost laughed.

While John absentmindedly took the customer’s order and answered a few questions (“Who owns this shop, do you know? I think I’ve been looking for him,” the blonde girl said tentatively.) he considered the text he’d gotten from Alexander earlier that morning.

_Want to join Eliza and I at the beach tomorrow?_

His texts arrived with perfect grammar and flawless punctuation. The formality had taken John aback until he realized this must be how Alex texted everyone.

He was sure he could get Ben to give him the day off, but Eliza gave him pause.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t “pretty enough” (although God knew John was terrible at judging ‘beauty’, an attribute he deemed arbitrary) or even that she was a girl, but that she seemed…steady. Well-grounded. He would have hurled himself into a relationship with Alexander, who seemed like a kindred soul, but Eliza…wasn’t the same.

Eliza wasn’t an enabler, he realized. She would care for a significant other thoroughly. She didn’t have the wild abandon of his and Alexander’s, the spontaneity that bordered on suicidal.

And that was it, he realized with a start. He didn’t want his vices recognized by somebody who would talk him out of them.

“Sir?”

The customer had been talking to him. That was embarrassing.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“I asked you if you had any way to contact the owner.”

“Oh. Well, Mr. Arnold’s away, but his sister’s managing the place while he’s gone. Hannah Arnold. I can get you her business phone, if you’d like.”

She smiled. It was a smile that wasn’t entirely genuine. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a few days. “That would be excellent.”

As John was hunting down a piece of scrap paper, Lafayette slid the woman’s coffee across the counter. “One refrigerated wimp coffee.”

“ _Gilbert!_ ” John hissed, but the woman laughed. “Wimp coffee. That’s funny, that’s what my husband calls it. Thank you both.”

The doorbell jingled as she left.

Hercules was at the counter immediately. “Was that Peggy Mansfield?”

John snorted laughter at Herc’s gossip-collecting antics. “Who cares, my shift is over.”

Herc continued to frown at the woman’s retreating figure, but John clocked in his time, grabbed his bag, and left: he had a text to reply to, and swimsuit shopping to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody protect Martha Manning.


End file.
